Johnny's Jellicle Cat
by Lancer1968
Summary: Johnny's Affinity with a Special Pet


Johnny's Jellicle Cat

Summary: Johnny's Affinity with a Special Pet

Any and All Disclaimers Applicable

Jellicle Cats, by Andrew Lloyd Webber from "Cats" based on the poetry book "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats" by T. S. Eliot.

Are you blind when you're born? Can you see in the dark?

Can you look at a king? Would you sit on his throne?

Can you say of your bite that it's worse than your bark?

Are you cock of the walk when you're walking alone?

Because Jellicles are and Jellicles do

Jellicles do and Jellicles would

Jellicles would and Jellicles can

Jellicles can and Jellicles do

When you fall on your head, do you land on your feet?

Are you tense when you sense there's a storm in the air?

Can you find your way blind when you're lost in the street?

Do you know how to go to the Heaviside Layer?

Because Jellicles can and Jellicles do

Jellicles do and Jellicles can

Jellicles can and Jellicles do

Jellicles do and Jellicles can

Jellicles can and Jellicles do

Can you ride on a broomstick to places far distant?  
Familiar with candle, with book, and with bell?  
Were you Whittington's friend? The Pied Piper's assistant?  
Have you been an alumnus of heaven and hell?

Are you mean like a minx? Are you lean like a lynx?  
Are you keen to be seen when you're smelling a rat?  
Were you there when the pharaohs commissioned the Sphinx?  
If you were and you are, you're a Jellicle cat

# # #

Johnny Lancer was a holy terror as he raced around the hacienda, clumping in his cowboy boots and nothing else, giggling like he was having the time of his life, while his beleaguered father and older brother, Scott attempted to round up the two-year old rascal. He was fresh out of his bath and was to have been ensconced in his nightshirt and drawers for bed, but instead of staying put where his father had left him to finish drying off, the lad had spied his feline pal and was off to get hold of the soft, furry creature.

Johnny had the remarkable sense to pull his boots on, just in case he needed to chase after the cat outside, he had not wanted to fuss with putting anything else on, since that would take too long to do, to his way of reasoning. He was off, galloping the hallway and the stairs in hot pursuit of his target.

"Here Ca, here Ca, come here Ca," he shouted.

Johnny turned his head one side to the other before he noticed the twitching tail that flicked a final wave before it disappeared underneath the large couch in the great room. The creature was far enough away from the edges for Johnny to reach under and pull him out. The cat licked his front paws in cunning satisfaction at eluding the exuberant young toddler.

Murdoch ran after his boy, carrying his clothes, shouting, "Come back here Johnny! Scott, head your brother off! Don't let him get outside! He'll need another bath, if he gets dirty, again!"

Johnny got down on all fours to peer under the couch, his small rounded bottom jutted upwards, as he extended his little arms as far as they would go, but Charlie vacated his spot to dart out of the great room, through the front door that Scott had gone to shut.

Johnny ran to the French doors and was outside before seven-year old Scott could reach him.

"Pa! Johnny's outside, naked as a jaybird!" he shouted up the staircase, as his father was rushing down them. They watched as Johnny's little legs ran towards the barn, following after Charlie. His little bottom bouncing as he ran.

"Go get your brother," sighed Murdoch. "I'm too old for this," he thought to himself as he watched Scott chase after Johnny.

Johnny reached the barn and was already half-way up the ladder, when Scott ran in to shriek at the top of his lungs, "Johnny Lancer, you get back down here at once! You know that Pa doesn't want you climbing that ladder."

"Oh shucks, Scott," Johnny said. "I wanna get Ca."

"You're going to get that butt blistered if you go up one more step," cautioned Scott. "And Pa will do it on the bare. Now get down. You know that Charlie will sneak in tonight and curl up once you settled in your bed. Pa's coming, better get down. And don't fall!"

"Dang nab it," Johnny grumbled, as he began to climb down.

Murdoch gathered Johnny up from the bottom third rung and gave him a few swats to his behind.

"Ow," cried Johnny. "Papi that hurts," he said.

"Good, it's supposed to get your attention. John Lancer, you know better than running off like that and climbing up this ladder. What were you thinking?" He held him close. "If you fell, you could have hurt yourself, badly."

"Wanna Ca," said Johnny, as he rubbed his bottom.

"Get your clothes on, young man, it's time for bed. You know as well as I do that Charlie only comes near you when you're asleep in your bed. Otherwise, you're too much commotion for him to deal with, not to mention your old man."

Johnny cheekily grinned, "You're not old, Papi. Scott's old, he's older than me," he reasoned.

Murdoch threw back his head to laugh at his son's logic while Scott rolled his eyes at his brother.

True to Murdoch's word and his brother's, Charlie, did curl up alongside the sleeping Johnny. Between the cat's steady purring, his warm body nestled into the crook of the boy's neck, Johnny slept soundly, as his arm held the cat close.

# # #

As the years drifted by, Johnny and Charlie were always seen as a pair. Charlie would greet Johnny in the morning, and whenever he came home after school. The cat curled up on the veranda in a sunny spot to roll and rub his face against the patio's stones waiting until Johnny was home again.

During dinner, Charlie would sit underneath the long table anticipating that Johnny would slip him some treat, often times, Johnny would pour some of his milk into a sauce and lean down to give him the dish. When Johnny sat backup, he got a stern glance from his father, but nothing else. It was almost as if his father just wanted him to know that he wouldn't come out and acknowledge his approval of his sharing his milk with Charlie but he never fussed at him to stop. So he didn't.

After dinner, while Scott and Johnny finished their homework, Charlie would patiently wait, as he slept in front of the fire, either warming or washing himself. He responded whenever Johnny called his name, "Charlie", now instead of "Ca" and would stand up to leap into Johnny's lap to insist that Johnny rub his head, scratch his jaw line, while Charlie meowed his approval.

"Johnny, the cat-whisperer," Murdoch chuckled while he watched.

Charlie had started his life as a stray cat, who had wandered one day into the opened barn, meowing to announce his presence. He was a large cat, maybe twenty or twenty-five pounds of remarkably spotless, soft, fine white fur with orange markings on his face and back. His tail was striped in white and orange that he used as a barometer to display his temperament, which he would thump it furiously in warning or swish it gently when he was content. Charlie had beautiful green eyes that watched everything, the birds in the trees, the ground squirrels and he watched out for horses hooves too. He wasn't much of a hunter, but preferred sunning himself in a pile of hay when Johnny was in the barn, a window sun beam or the courtyard arched walls. No one knew how old Charlie was, since he arrived at Lancer full grown. Charlie's most redeeming quality was that he loved Johnny as much as Johnny loved him.

# # #

Then one day, Charlie didn't come to greet fifteen year-old Johnny, like he usually did. Charlie was old now, hobbled with short strides, his back was arched like he was perpetually frightened at something, even though he wasn't. He had lost weight, and was skin and bones, as he still sunned himself on the veranda. It was apparent to all that Charlie had grown into an old man in cat years.

"Son, we should talk about Charlie," said Murdoch.

"I don't want ta," he said, wrapping his arms around his frame in defense. "I know what you're gonna say, and I just can't do it."

"But, Johnny, it's not fair to him, don't you see?" Murdoch added gently. "Charlie will always be a part of you. You've given him a great life and he saw you through your childhood. It's all we can ask of him."

"I know," Johnny said solemnly. "Can't we ask Doc Hildenbrand if he can try something?"

Murdoch looked at this son, and knew how much Charlie meant to him, replied, "We can only try."

"Thanks, papi," he said as he stroked Charlie's fur. He knew that one day in the all too near future; he would have to say his final good-byes. Johnny wasn't ready for it to be this day. Not while Charlie purred at his boy's gentle touch upon his weary bones.

~Fin~

Sun Dancer

Note: I don't usually write Johnny and Scott as young kids growing up at Lancer, but I adapted this story using events from my daughter growing up surrounded by family pets and animals her entire life, to the point that she became a Doctor of Emergency Room Veterinary Medicine. She saved my beloved Charlie's life earlier this week. He may now be on the last of his nine lives but at least he's still with me and recovering well thanks to modern medicine and isn't suffering or in pain. I felt the strong need to immortalize him with this short story.

"Jellicle" is a strange contorted contraction of the words 'dear little'. Just as the "Pollicle" in "Pollicle Dogs" is a contorted contraction of 'poor little'. These words originally came from a little niece of T.S. Eliot when she tried to say the actual phrases. In the musical "Cats", which I have seen way too many times to count, the Jellicle Cats hold their Jellicle Ball to select one elderly cat to go to cat heaven to return reincarnated into a young cat.

"Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remained unawakened." Anatole France, was a French poet, journalist, and novelist, who apparently loved animals too.


End file.
